


Chestnuts

by WingcommanderArthurShappey



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Skipthur, i'm cry, the question is did Arthur get his chestnut-collecting skills in Ipswich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingcommanderArthurShappey/pseuds/WingcommanderArthurShappey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn will always smell of Skip, and of cinnamon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chestnuts

The late autumn sunlight's filtering through the leaves of the trees, drawing bright little patterns on the wet grass, and Martin and Arthur collect chestnuts together. It was Arthur's idea, and Skip agreed to it almost right away. He seemed quite happy at the prospect of collecting chestnuts with Arthur, and Arthur knows why: chestnuts, if you look in the right spots, are for free, and you can eat them. Well, at least some of them. Some chestnuts are good for eating, some are good for making little chestnut animals out of them. And Martin's always a bit short on food.  
Their breath forms little silver clouds in the crisp air. That's a fun word: crisp air. Arthur sort of knows where it's coming from, because if breathing fresh, cold air would have a noise, it would sound like "crisp".  
Arthur looks over at Skip and his worn blue jacket and smiles. Arthur's not here because chestnuts taste so nice - they sort of taste like the inside of an old drawer. Arthur's here for Skip.  
  
"Ow, damn!"  
Arthur's at Skips side within the (very slow) blink of an eye. Skips eyebrows are creased together in pain, and Arthur's in concern.  
"What is it, Skip?!"  
Martin looks embarrassed now, and a faint blush crawls across his ears. He's so cute, even with wrinkles of discomfort scribbled across his forehead.  
"The... little buggers are more _spiky_ than I thought."  
Skip's laughing in an embarrassed way, but Arthur sees the tiny pink pinpricks all over his fingertips.  
"Oh, _Skip!_ I told you to take my gloves!"  
"And I told you I don't _want_ your gloves, Arthur! They're _yours!"_ It's amazing how Skip's eyes sparkle when he smiles and then quickly looks away, like little blue fireworks. "Not everyone has your well-founded expertise in collecting chestnuts and comes with the right equipment."  
"Oh, there are other things I'm an expert in," Arthur says slowly and feels a bit like Douglas. "And I don't just mean the bears. For example, Mum sent me to a first aid class in -"  
"Ipswich?"  
_"Skip!_ How did you know?! Anyway, as the steward of the airplane, it's sort of my job to patch up wounds and injuries and cat bites and that sort of stuff. And in this case, I know just the right cure!"  
"You do? So what's the cure for chestnut stings, _Mr Medical Expert_ Shappey?"  
"Oh, that's easy."  
Arthur's honestly surprised at how easy it _really_ is. He didn't think he had it in him to do it, but here he is, raising Martin's hand to his lips and kissing him, very tenderly, on his sore fingertips. One kiss for each finger, and when Arthur has reached Skip's pinky, his lips linger on the soft rosy skin for a moment. Skip's hands are so small and slim, and he has such dainty little knuckles and fingernails. Arthur just wants to kiss them all over, and the way Skip looks at him, all wide-eyed and blushy, makes his heart flutter in his chest. They breathe the same silver air now.  
When Arthur speaks, his voice catches in his throat a little.  
"Is that better?"  
"Actually... yes, Arthur. Thank you." Skip's flustered, brilliant smile fills Arthur's world. "That's _much_ better."  
  
  
  
Later on, over a shared mug of cinnamon milk in Martin's attic, Arthur kisses him again, this time on the lips, and it's warm and wet and hungry, even though they've just eaten. Beneath his hands, Arthur can feel Skip's heart flail like a little bird.  
"I love you, Skip," he whispers hotly against his Captain's freckled skin, with a voice that sounds like crying. "I love you. I love you, Martin."  
Martin doesn't say it back, not with his mouth, but he does with his eyes, and Arthur can hear it with his heart.  
  
  
~  
  
  
Four years later, Skip stands on Arthur's doorstep, with his hat in his hands, and twists it anxiously. He looks scared and uncomfortable, and Arthur curls his lips into a smile that he hopes looks at least somewhat convincing.  
"About that job, I... I was just wondering..."  
It feels like someone put a dumpling into Arthur's throat, but he keeps smiling and gives Skip a nod.  
"I think you should do it, Martin. We'll get by, really. You know us, we _always_ do."  
Twist, twist, twist. The poor hat. Fortunately it's not Skips Captain's hat with the lots and lots of gold braid.  
"Are you _sure?_ You're sure it wouldn't... It would be _okay_ for you?"  
Arthur nods again.  
"Yeah," he says, and he sounds more firm than he feels. "I'll be fine, Skip. I think it's time for you to move on, even Douglas says that. And we can still be friends, even when you're headed for the human village and not living in the jungle anymore!"  
Martin looks a tiny bit less anxious, almost relieved.  
"A... rather fitting comparison," he mumbles, and the hat stills in his hands. "MJN really _is_ the jungle of British air traffic, isn't it..."  
"One time we even had orchids in the flight deck!"  
For a moment, they're both smiling.  
When Martin speaks again, his voice sounds very soft and gentle.  
"Thank you, Arthur. You know - this is a very big step for me, but I think you're right. MJN can carry on without me. And you're... You're always fine, aren't you? It's... Yes. Yes, you're right. Thank you. I really needed to hear that it's okay for me to... to go on, see new places, move in with..."  
He stops himself.  
"Theresa," Arthur finishes for him, feeling both helpful and a bit happy-sad. Skip looks sort of sheepish, and Arthur is glad that Herc isn't there to see it.  
"Yes."  
"It's okay, Skip. You deserve all that. You deserve to get paid, and a proper job at a proper airline that doesn't make you deal with an otter in the fridge." He draws a deep breath, and says something he really, really means. "You deserve to be loved, Martin."  
The air between them feels crisp, but this time, it's not fun at all. Skip looks like someone who woke up from a sad dream. There's a lot of relief in his smile now.  
"So do you, Arthur. -- _Not_ the bit about the airline, because I know you love working for Carolyn. But..."  
He puts on his hat, like someone who's said enough for the time being.  
"You'll be all right. You'll be happy."  
Skip turns. Arthur gulps. And Skip turns again.  
"Arthur..."  
"I know." Arthur's not usually one for interrupting people, but this time he knows what's coming, and he doesn't really want to hear it.  
He takes Skip's hand and gives it a squeeze, and tries not to raise it to his lips and kiss it. It would've been so nice to do that.  
  
Arthur cries in bed that night.  
  
  
~  
  
  
Martin and Arthur collect chestnuts together, for old time's sake. Not because chestnuts taste so nice - they sort of taste like the inside of an old drawer -, but because Skip's lips did, five years ago, after a shared mug of warm cinnamon milk.  
This time, Skips prepared. He's wearing very thick gloves. Arthur wonders whether he's scared of the chestnut spikes or of Arthur's kisses.  
Martin lifts his head and shows him the ginormous chestnut he found. It's a chestnut of _paramount_ ginormousness. Martin smiles and then quickly looks away, and there are fireworks in his eyes, blue and silver in the late autumn light.


End file.
